It's Not a Matter of Won't, It's a Matter of Can't
by Haliaetus
Summary: The end's in sight, but not everyone's happy and tempers flare when suspicions against the tactician arise. A fight seems to be the only way to settle Verian's loyalties, but can he fight at all? And who will he be fighting?[Male TacticianKarel]Rekka no..
1. Introductions

_"What's your viewpoint on fate, Ver?"_

_"Fate, milord?"_

_"Fate, destiny, purpose, whatever you want to call it. What do you think about it?"_

_"I think…I think that if people believe in it, they aren't able to truly live, always thinking that everything they do is predetermined. Even if it is, if we act like there's no real purpose to our life, we can't truly live. You have to believe that you're doing what you're doing because you chose to, not because it was written down somewhere by some higher power. Otherwise, why live at all?"_

_"…I see…"_

_"Hm? Did I say something wrong, milord?"_

_"No, Ver, it's okay. It's just…I've never considered that viewpoint before. It's an interesting philosophy."_

_"It is, isn't it? You know, milord, I'm glad I was given this chance to get to know you better."_

_"I'm glad, too, Ver. It's because of you that I've repaired my relationship with my father, after all."_

_"Oh, it was nothing…"_

_"Don't be modest; it doesn't become you. But truly, Ver, you've changed all our lives, especially mine. Thank you."_

_"…Milord…"_

"Verian! Verian!" The flaps that were the entrance to my tent flew open to admit the young girl. Pink ponytails bouncing in her excitement, she grinned at me as she approached where I was sitting at my desk. I smiled slightly at her enthusiasm, though she was unable to see it due to the cloth that covered my entire face except for a strip across my eyes.

"What is it, Serra?" I asked, wondering if Matthew had managed to get Guy stuck in a tree again. Sometimes the thief was more trouble than he was worth, but he never failed to entertain when things were boring. Personally, though, I thought the peace and quiet was nice.

Planting her hands on her hips, Serra briefly closed her blue eyes as she sighed in exasperation. "It's Karel. Someone left a sword out and he found it."

She had no need to say more, though if I had let her, she'd continue to babble on about how people should really be more considerate of each other and not leave blades out where a crazed swordsman might find them. Instead, I thanked her quickly and hurried out of my tent, following the now audible sounds of outrage and fighting to where the swordsman was. Karel with a sword outside of battle was not a good thing for the health of any bystanders that happened to get too close.

Skirting around Kent and Sain's tent in an attempt at a shortcut, I nearly ran into the two cavaliers. "Ah! Verian! I'm terribly sorry!" Kent was quicker to recover than his brown-haired companion, though Sain wasn't fare behind the redhead.

"Ditto on that, but I don't suppose you could do something about the crazed swordsman before he actually kills Raven, hmm?" He actually looked a little worn out and I guess that he and Kent had been trying to delay Karel's advance on the mercenary and come out on the losing end. Not that that was surprising. The real surprise was that they were physically unhurt except for being exhausted.

"Of course. I was on my way. If you'll excuse me…?" I edged past them, silently cursing the closeness. I wasn't a very touchy-feely guy and tended to avoid any physical contact if at all possible. Finally, though, I was free and I continued on my mission.

A few seconds later, I cam upon the fight. Several people were standing off to one side, well out of range of either blade, watching the two men nervously. I couldn't blame them. Karel could be scary when he put his mind to it and Raven…well, Raven was like a less violent version of Karel. They were too alike for comfort and the tension between them often resulted in fights, such as this one.

Seeing as how they hadn't actually gotten to the point where they were dealing out serious blows, I took a moment to catch my breath and smooth my robes. The people watching had caught sight of me and were whispering among themselves, casting quick glances from me to the two fighting swordsmen. I ignored them, concentrating on avoiding the swords long enough to get the combatants' attention.

"Karel! Raven! Stop this instant!" My voice could probably have been heard three miles away, had there been anyone around to hear. My time with this small army had taught me the valuable lesson of pitching my voice just right to carry and intimidate. It came in handy a whole lot more than I wanted it to; doing it for any length of time left my vocal cords feeling raw.

The mercenary glanced at me, so I knew he had heard, but Karel didn't spare his attention for even the briefest of moments, launching another strike when he saw the lapse in Raven's guard. I sighed. This was going to be a bit harder than I'd hoped it would be.

"Karel, if you don't drop your sword, I'll make sure you're left out of the next battle as well as the one with Nergal!" _That_ got his attention and he looked at me, a look of disbelief crossing his face briefly. I reverted to my normal voice. "That's better. Now, give me the sword and leave Raven alone; he still needs rest after that last battle. Besides, I think I saw Karla looking for you earlier."

Reluctantly, Karel lowered the sword and handed it to me hilt-first. I took it and tucked it into a sheath I kept on me under my robes. "Good. Thank you. Oh, Raven?" He paused from where he'd started to walk away.

"Yeah?"

"I'd like to see you in my tent at your earliest convenience, if you would." It wasn't a request and he knew it. I could see the tense look that passed quckly over his face before he nodded. "Thank you."

The danger past, the small group that had gathered started to disperse and I let myself relax for the first time since I'd set foot out of my tent. Maybe some time in those hot springs that were nearby would do me some good...


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Okay, I started this chapter and realized I still haven't done a disclaimer, so that's below. This chapter doesn't have much to do with the main plot, but I figured you should know Verian's past a bit better, so this has some background/memories. Oh, and if you haven't figured it out by now, this whole thing is from Ver's (the Tactician) POV.

Disclaimer: Never have and never will have the rights to Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken (or any of the others), so there's no point in suing, even if I did have money. Which I don't.

* * *

The hot springs did do some good by relaxing the muscles that invariably got all tense whenever something happened in the camp. These were mostly located in my shoulders and back, giving me ample reason to sink up to my chin in the hot water. Which, in turn, meant that no one would see me unless they came up to the very edge of the hot spring and looked directly down.

There were reasons I didn't like being around others when I bathed or answered Nature's call, but I also didn't care to think about them. The past was just that, the past, and thinking about it now wasn't going to do me or anyone else any good. The others wouldn't understand, either.

I mean, how could they understand? The only other one who _might_ even come close to knowing was Legault and I hadn't had much to do with him (not to mention the fact that even though he'd defected from the Black Fang, he was still an assassin and you didn't tell assassins private things about yourself if you could help it.). Sighing, I sank a bit lower in the water, half my attention on the area around me in case someone else got the idea to come take a soak in the hot springs.

Maybe it was the fact that for once in my life, I felt safe with the people just behind the ridge nearby or maybe it was the comforting heat of the water that eventually lulled me into a half-sleep, but whichever it was, I found myself wandering the land of dreams, visiting ones I hadn't had for a long time…

"_Why did you run? You should know you can't escape me by now." I heard the low hiss as my dagger slid out of its sheath, coming up to pause just above the skin of my victim's neck._

"_No! Please! I'll do what ever you want, just don't…" His protest turned into a gurgle as I pulled my dagger out of his neck, standing up straight so that he fell to the ground. Wiping my dagger on his sleeve, I sheathed it and turned to go. My job was done and it was time to go home._

The scene shifted to a few years later.

_The shadows covered me as I slipped away from the hidden building, my cloak flowing around me like the shadows did. I cast only one glance back, to make sure I wasn't being followed. When they found me gone, they'd do anything to get me back and I had no intention of going back to that life. Never. Not after that last mission…_

I woke up sputtering, hot water filling my mouth and attempting to go up my nose. Pulling myself half out of the water, I calmed my racing heart down. I hadn't had that dream in a long time and to have it now…I shook my head to dispel those thoughts. They couldn't reach me here. Not anymore. I was free and I was going to stay that way.

Getting out of the hot springs entirely, I redressed and headed back to camp, twitching the last fold of my tactician's robes back into place as I rounded the ridge that separated the springs from the rest of the camp. As I walked to my tent, I looked around, making sure everything was how it was supposed to be. It all seemed to be okay, so I didn't stop to talk to anyone, at least, not until I ran into Lyndis. Literally, ran into her.

"Oh! Verian!" I reached out quickly to stop her from falling over completely. She grabbed my arm and steadied herself before letting go at the earliest opportunity. In the whole camp, Lady Lyndis was the only one who had seen my face and she probably knew me better than anyone, besides myself.

"Sorry, Lyndis! I wasn't watching where I was going." I watched as she caught her breath and wondered just how much she had guessed in the time between her finding me on the Sacaen plains to now. She had never asked me anything more about my past than my name in the beginning and what I was doing in the Sacaen plains, but I knew she wasn't stupid or shallow and I often caught her looking at me with a mixture of pity and something else I couldn't identify when she thought I wasn't looking.

"Oh, no, it's fine, Ver. I should have been watching, as well." She took a deep breath and smiled at me. "Were you going somewhere?"

"Uh, yeah. My tent. I just came from the hot springs and…" I trailed off before I went too far and told her something about my past that she didn't need to know.

"Oh. Then you probably wouldn't know where Matthew and Guy are, would you?" As she mentioned the thief and myrmidon, I could see the concern on her face and wondered how long they had been missing for her to be out looking for them.

"No, I don't." I replied slowly. "When was the last time you saw them?"

"Breakfast." Came the short reply. "But when I find them…oh, they had better be sorry!"

I watched her walk off and vaguely wondered whether Matthew had finally made good on his threat to steal the sacred sword Lyndis prized so highly. As soon as she was out of sight, I turned back and resumed my walk to my tent.

The rest of the short walk passed uneventfully, but I ducked into my tent with a feeling of relief, nonetheless. Even though I rarely interacted with the people in the army outside of battle, just being around others made me feel like they were all staring at me, trying to see past the green robes I always wore. My tent provided a barrier between them and me and it was my refuge whenever I needed some time to think.

At least, it would have been had there not been a certain mercenary cleaning his sword while leaning against my desk inside. I frowned at Raven before remembering that I had asked him to come see me as soon as he could. Sighing, I went around me desk as he stood and sheathed his blade, the cloth disappearing somewhere unknown.

"Sorry I'm late." I apologized, sitting down and straightening some papers that had been scattered over the surface of the desk. "I wanted to talk to you about how you're feeling after that last battle. Are the injuries healing properly?"

"Yes. Serra's staff has helped a lot, as well." He replied, his face nearly devoid of all emotion.

"Good, good." I glanced up to look him in the eye. "Raven, I don't want you to be engaging in any fighting, regardless of who it is or why they are challenging you, until Serra or Lucius says you are completely healed. If you do, I may have no choice but to keep you out of the next battle and I don't want to do that; you're too valuable a fighter for us to lose. Do you understand me?"

Raven nodded. "Yes. Is that all?"

"It is for now." I sighed. He turned to go, but something occurred to me and I called after him. "Oh, and if you see Matthew or Guy, would you tell them to come see me?"

The only acknowledgement I receive was a raised hand, so I had to assume he had heard and would do as I asked. Setting the papers I held back down, I leaned back and closed my eyes.

Life in this army certainly was anything but boring.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Welcome to chapter three! Personally, I'm kinda amazed that I've stuck with this as long as I have…Usually, when I get an idea and start to work on it, I get a new idea about two pages in and start on that, then it happens again and the first one is totally forgotten…yeah. I'm horrible at sticking with things through completion.

Disclaimer once again applies. If I owned FE, there would be some major changes in the game, mostly focusing around certain characters...I'll just leave it at that. Ah, well. As long as I'm writing this, you might as well read it.

* * *

It wasn't until the next day that Matthew and Guy found me in my tent, looking rather the worse for wear and a decidedly guilty air hanging around both of them. I glanced up at them, but returned to my papers for another few moments, enjoying watching them squirm from the corner of my eye.

Finally, I decided they had had enough and set the papers down. "All right. What did you do this time?" I asked, directing the question mostly at Matthew, since the myrmidon had probably been conned into doing it, if his expression was anything to go by.

Matthew oscillated for a moment before answering. "Well…I'm not going to plead innocent, but I'll have you know that it was just sitting there. I mean, how can you expect me to fight for you if I don't keep my skills sharp? Besides, it wasn't like it was damaged or anything." Despite his words, he still tried for an innocent look that would have charmed birds out of the trees and probably had.

I shook my head. "Matthew, you should know by now that your innocent look doesn't work on me. What did you take?"

"Ah, well, you see, that's a rather _delicate_ matter, since, ah, well…" A raised eyebrow on my part shut him up.

"A single word or two would suffice, Matthew." I told him, keeping my eyes locked on his. All told, it was probably a good thing he couldn't see the smile hidden behind the veil. Matthew swallowed hard.

"Right. Gotcha. It was, uh, Lyn's sword…" He mumbled. I leaned forward a bit.

"What did you say?"

"It was Lyn's sword." He repeated, louder this time, glaring at me as if daring me to laugh at him. I gave him no evidence of my grin.

Settling back in my chair, I crossed my arms. "I see. So I'm assuming Lyndis got to you before Raven saw you and sent you here?"

Guy nodded and spoke before Matthew could come up with a sharp retort. "Y-yes, sir. Sh-she found us this morning."

"I see." I said again. "The sword is back with its rightful owner, then?" At Guy's nod, I continued. "Good. In that case, you two may share latrine duty for the next two days and if I catch even the merest rumor that you have been slacking off or goofing off…" I let the threat hang in the air between us, trusting that their imaginations would come up with a punishment much worse than I could.

Matthew and Guy exchanged identical horrified glances. My grin widened. "You are dismissed." I told them, picking up the papers once again as they turned to leave, when I remembered something from earlier. "Oh, and Guy?" The young myrmidon half-turned from where he'd paused partway out the tent.

"Y-yes, sir?"

"Karel was looking for you earlier. I suggest you talk to him sooner rather than later. Something to do with a sparring lesson…?" Guy gulped and hijacked it out of the tent as quickly as he could.

Alone, I laughed. Ever since Karel had offered to teach Guy some more advanced sword techniques, the younger man had been living in constant fear of crossing his master. Not that I blamed him one bit; it was just funny to watch.

The next day brought another battle and although Raven asked to be in it, there really wasn't a need for him and both Serra and Lucius gave him stern looks after overhearing our conversation, so I had him sit it out.

I had the feeling that the only ones who were grateful for my decision (of the three at least) were Lucius and Serra.

When the battle was over, I spent some time walking around and making sure that everyone who had been in the battle was being taken care of and that no one who had been held back in camp was lacking work to do. The aftermath of a battle was our busiest time and even I couldn't get out of interacting with _someone._

Even so, why did it have to be that I was the only one available to go see how Karel was doing?

I took a moment outside his tent to brace myself for the undoubtedly violent reception I was about to receive. It wouldn't be the first time and I was certain that it wouldn't be the last, but I did wish that it wasn't how the scene had to be played out; it got exhausting having to anticipate and dodge an attack every time I tried to enter the tent after a battle.

Before I entered, I called out to make sure he was actually in his tent. "Karel? Are you in there?"

There was a moment of silence that was made all the more awkward by a drop of sweat trickling down between my shoulder blades, right where I couldn't scratch to make the itch go away.

Then, "Verian?" Karel's voice was muffled, more so than if it had just been the thin tent walls between us. Frowning slightly, I lifted the flap and let myself in, slowly so as not to invite attack.

Karel was laying facedown on his pallet, a position I hadn't expected from the normally volatile swordsman. Confused, I stepped a little closer, quickly looking the other man over for any injuries that would warrant such a position.

There were none, which only added to my confusion. "Karel? Are you feeling alright?" My voice was a bit tighter than usual; Karel's strength and quick temper were like Matthew and Guy's antics and Serra's incessant chatter; a part of normal life in the camp. Seeing him in an almost vulnerable setting was…unthinkable.

Shifting slightly so he could look up at me through the long strands of his dark hair, Karel took a long moment to reply, keeping his eyes on my face. Unbidden, I could feel my face heat up under the intense scrutiny and was once more glad for the protection of my robes.

"Yeah…I'm fine." He said finally, dropping his gaze as he closed his eyes. I thought he had fallen asleep, but then he spoke again. "Hey, Ver?"

I started. Ver? Had Karel just called me Ver? He never called me anything except for 'you' or 'Verian.' For him to do otherwise now hinted at damage that wasn't physical.

"What is it, Karel?" I decided to play along for now, certain that it had been a slip on his part. Why else would he have called me that?

"How much longer?"

"How much longer of what?"

"How much longer is this going to be?" He raised a hand as if to include everything around him. "This whole war. When will it be over?"

I sighed. "I don't know."

When _would_ it be over? When would we all be able to return to our homes, be able to mourn those who lost their lives for this cause? Would that time ever come? From where I was standing, the end didn't seem any closer than it had in the beginning.

"I don't know."

As it ended up, the battle didn't take us that long to recover from and we were on the move within a few days. This would have been great, except for the fact that the god in charge of the weather decided to frown on us and sent several storms over the course of a single week, slowing our progress considerably.

It was a toss up as to who was more miserable: the horses or me.

* * *

Whoot. So we finally get Karel talking in more than monosyllabic words. Personally, I'm stll cracking up about poor Guy having to be around Karel when the swrodmaster's trying to teach him new techniques...

Anyway, although I am completely enjoying writing this, some feedback on whether or not _you_ guys are enjoying it would be welcome. I don't necessarily need reviews to live, like some other authors, but they _do_ keep me from going crazy and thinking you all hate me...right.

Buh-bye now and stay out of trouble that can be traced back to you by your younger siblings. If you even _have_ younger siblings...yah.

I'm going now. Haliaetus out.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Hey, quick note. This chapter makes mention of a few of my favorite pairings, but they aren't elaborated on much, so don't send me messages saying how much you hate that particular pairing, 'cause it won't change the story. This particular chapter _could_ be skipped, but I recommend reading it to understand Verian as well as most of what is coming. The fact that this fanfic happens to focus on a guy tactician and _Karel_ should give you some idea on how weirdly my brain was twisted at the time, so blame anything you have issues with on that, not me. Once more, you'd know it if I owned Fire Emblem, so I obviously don't.

* * *

Although my robes protected me from the worst of the wetness and chill, they also seemed to find the exact spots where they would get the most mud on them, meaning extra work for me to clean them.

The horses didn't have clothes to worry about, but they didn't have any shelter and the mud was often deep enough for their hooves to get stuck, meaning a rescue team had to be put together and sent out into the inclement weather every hour to make sure the horses didn't get too bogged down.

Finally, after six days of near nonstop storms, a weak sun showed its face from behind the dark clouds and we all rejoiced. I took the initiative to order a couple of days of simple resting as soon as we found a spot dry enough to do so in relative comfort.

My decision was met with unanimous cheers, except from those not given to cheering, such as Raven and Karel. Not that it really mattered who wasn't cheering, just that everyone was happy.

Camp was set up and normal schedules resumed, like our personal wake-up routine consisting of Guy chasing Matthew through the camp yelling for the thief to give back something or other that he had stolen. Perhaps putting those two in the same tent hadn't been the wisest idea.

Personally, I was just grateful for the opportunity to be able to relax a bit without the constant presence of rain, thunder and lightning.

Things began to change at that point, or maybe they'd already been changing and I finally noticed. One change in particular seemed to affect everybody.

There was a new atmosphere throughout the camp that seemed to hang around everyone like an omnipresent mist, almost thick enough to be seen, but still intangible. If pressed to name it, I'd have to say romance, but that just sounded cheesy. Still, it seemed to aptly describe what I was seeing between certain members of our small army.

For one, Eliwood and Hector were all of a sudden arguing a whole lot more and I was called out not once, not twice, but _three_ times to prevent an actual fight from occurring between the two (usually) best friends. The probable subject? Lyndis.

The second and third instances I actually heard about from Serra. Believe it or not, the girl never gossips; if you take the time to listen to her, she actually tells what's really going on with everyone in the camp.

According to her (and confirmed by my own eyes) there were developing relationships between not just Jaffar and Nino, but Matthew and Guy. That last one I had major trouble believing until I accidentally stumbled upon a rather embarrassing scene I won't repeat here. Suffice it to say that although I managed to get away before they noticed me, I avoided them for the next couple of days to give myself time to come to terms with what I had seen.

Lastly was one I had seen coming since they joined: Raven and Lucius. Not that there was anything going on. Quite the opposite actually, if Lucius' rather depressed attitude was anything to go by. Raven could be rather dense when it came to matters not concerning fighting or other such things.

Although I took an afternoon to adjust my thinking to include these new relationships possibly affecting future battles, at the same time I couldn't help but wish I could get in on it; the mist that clung to just about everyone else didn't seem to have touched me at all. It left me feeling rather lonely as I watched the others interact.

Not that I _couldn't_ have deepened a relationship with someone beyond the simple camaraderie I shared with most of the camp. It was just that my aversion to intimate discussions of any kind and physical contact of any kind ran too deep to allow for such overtures of friendship.

There had been a time when I could have done so easily, but emotional wounds had been inflicted since and it had taken five years for them to heal to the point where they didn't open up when I spent more than a couple of days in the company of other humans.

I didn't want a repeat of what had happened the eve of my nineteenth birthday…

"_Ver? Why are you holding that knife like that? Ver, are you listening to me?"_

"_I'm sorry, milord."_

"_What for? The ruined carpet? I told you, it will all be—"_

"_It's not that."_

"_Then what is it, Ver? Tell me!"_

"_Have you heard of the Black Fang, milord?"_

"_The what? The Black Fang? Aren't they that obscure group of assassins over in Bern? What do they have to do with this?"_

"_Everything. I was sent by the Black Fang."_

"_Sent by…? Ver, are you saying you're an assassin?"_

"_Yes, milord."_

"_Then…who…?"_

"_You."_

"…_oh. But, what about…?"_

"_Simply a way to get close to you."_

"_Are you …are you certain that was all it was?"_

"…_Yes."_

"_Really? It seemed genuine to me."_

"…_That's because…it was, milord."_

"…_Ver?"_

"_Yes, milord?"_

"_Why?"_

"_Because they ordered me to! Because they're my family! Because they're all I have! Because if I didn't, someone else would! Because I don't think I could stand it if someone else had to do this!"_

"…_Then I guess you don't have a choice, do you?"_

"_No."_

"_Will you promise me one thing before you kill me?"_

"_What is it?"_

"_Don't let it happen again. Don't let someone else force you to do something that you don't want to, regardless of the consequences. Promise?"_

"_Yes, milord. I'm sorry."_

"_I know, Ver. I'm sorry, too. Goodbye."_

"_Goodbye, milord..."_

* * *

So Ver was an assassin. Go figure, huh? Of course, that still doesn't explain why he's a tactician right now...

Anyway, thanks to Knives91 and NekoGuyFan for the reviews! It emans a lot to me that you took the time to do so! Another chapter should be up soon, so don't worry!

Haliaetus out.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Sorry if you've been wanting more romance and less angst/depressed stuff, but I swear it's coming. Just not 'till after the—oh, wait. I'm not supposed to spoil the story. Sorry! Anyway, it's coming, so hold onto your horses and find a comfortable position in your saddle, though sitting in one of those things for long periods of time tends to wreck havoc on your butt muscles…

* * *

Maybe it was a weird way of granting my wish, but for some reason, I was suddenly seeing Karel around camp a lot more often that I had before.

For instance. I was out walking around dusk, getting some fresh air after spending the whole afternoon holed away in my tent, perusing different papers, when I caught sight of Karel practicing in a small clearing near his tent, which happened to be on the outskirts of the camp. He saw me and paused in what he was doing to give me a level look and a nod of acknowledgement before resuming the maneuver he'd been executing. Startled and confused, I continued on my way, remembering how he had called me Ver less than a week ago, though it hadn't happened since.

Then there was the time during breakfast when I was called away to deal with something. As it turned out, it was dealt with before I got there, leaving me to walk back alone. I had been lost in thought when Karel seemed to suddenly materialize next to me, just walking along as if nothing were out of the ordinary. We didn't talk or anything, but I couldn't help but feel as if he were trying to make a point about something that I wasn't getting.

I even went so far as to ask Serra about it, but she didn't know anything about it. She did say that she'd keep her ears and eyes open for anything, but I had stopped listening to her after learning that she knew nothing.

Gradually, it became so bad that I couldn't do anything that didn't require my entire attention without my thoughts somehow straying to the swordmaster. I became so obsessive about it, I started losing sleep and even Dorcas noticed and asked if I was all right.

My temper fuse seemed to grow exponentially with the less sleep I got and on several occasions I ended a conversation with yelling and kicking the other out of my tent or simply glaring at them until they nervously let themselves out and I was left alone.

I also started to spend more time alone, away from the camp and the people in it. Not doing anything in particular, just thinking about what had happened recently and about myself. Or rather, as much about myself as I was willing to let myself think about.

It was on one of these little retreats that I found myself sitting on a log that had fallen and formed a bridge over a good sized stream. The water beneath me wasn't all that deep, maybe up to my waist at its deepest, but the current was quick, the noise a constant babbling as the water ran and leaped around the larger rocks.

Where my thoughts started out, I don't remember, but somehow, like always, they turned to my recent obsession over Karel.

Why was my first question. Why him, why me, why now? I couldn't answer them on my own and it drove me to no distraction.

In an effort to find those answers, I took to putting myself in situations where I could observe the swordmaster without it seeming like I was stalking him. This was to prevent others from finding out, though since I had already talked to Serra, I wouldn't have been surprised if everyone already knew.

Over the next few days, I became familiar with the way Karel interacted, acted on his own and the little signals that told others what mood he was in if they were looking. I got the feeling that no one else in the camp knew Karel as well as I did; not even his sister.

Still, the answers remained a mystery, so I turned to a different source, one I hadn't used for questions like these in a long time: myself.

I was surprised to find that memories that had long been painful and impossible to think about for years had become almost mundane, as if there was nothing about them to suggest that they were connected to a very turbulent time in my life. Going through these memories with caution, I began to see what I had seen five years ago, with the young lord of Worde.

Maybe it was the same. Maybe it was something totally different. Either way, it left me cold and trembling, wondering if I had the strength to continue to the end. Wondering if memories of something that had happened years ago would cripple me in the present.

I really shouldn't have been surprised at the way things turned out. There were very obvious signs pointing to it not matter where I looked, if I only looked for them. But I didn't look for them, didn't want to acknowledge their existence, knew that if I did, I would have to face something more than just Karel.

I would have to face my past. Face it and come out on the other side alive.

* * *

A/N: Sorry it was such a short chapter, but I had to stop there before going on. Ver was getting a bit too deep in self-pity, so he won't be wallowing in that for much longer if I have anything to say about it (which I coincidentally do...). Oh, and we finally start to see some action in the next few chapters and not so much memories stuff.

Thank you so much for sticking with me, those of you who have!

Haliaetus


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Hey, sorry about not updating yesterday. My flashdrive was having issues and refused to admit the file was on it, so I couldn't upload it. Anyway, disclaimer still stands and you should just skip this and go on to read the dang story, 'kay? Right.

* * *

I guess it was my odd behavior that led to the rumors.

I guess it was this that led to the rumors.

Oh, they started out innocently enough.

You know, the whole, 'Is Ver finally cracking under the pressure?' 'Ver's been acting really weird lately. Wonder what's wrong?' kind of rumors.

Then they started to take a turn for the worse, but I didn't hear about these new ones until I overheard one.

I was getting dinner one evening about a week after the first rumors started flying when I overheard Bartre and Dart talking to each other. Not that this was unusual; the two could often be found at any given time chatting over some sort of edible items together. It was Dart's words that caught my attention.

"Don't you wonder what's under those robes? I mean, you could hide any manner of weapons under there." The pirate was saying. Bartre nodded.

"Yeah. Someone who won't show you his face isn't to be trusted."

"My point exactly." Dart gestured with his fork. "And we're following this guy to defeat Nergal, but how do we know he's on our side? All we've got is Eliwood's word and Lyn's testimony that he's to be trusted at all. For all we know, he could be a spy for the other side, reporting our every move to the Black Fang. It certainly would explain how they keep finding us."

"Yeah…" Bartre considered this as he chewed a bite of meat. "Have you talked to anyone else about this?"

"Yeah, a few others. For the most part, they agree with me. I even got a response out of Karel, though I had to do it from a safe distance."

"Really?" The fighter looked interested. For anyone to get anything out of Karel without a fight was a momentous event. "What'd he say?"

Dart shrugged. "I'm not exactly sure. All he said was 'A sword never lies.' Any ideas?"

"Hmm. I dunno…seems kinda random to me…"

I walked away then, shaken by what I had heard. If the army didn't trust me, they might not follow orders in battle and that might get some of them killed. I hadn't become a tactician to let people ignore me and kill themselves. If I'd wanted that, I would've just stayed in my past life instead of getting out.

Still, I didn't think it would amount to anything, so I returned to my tent and forgot about it as well as I could. It would blow over and then things would be back to normal, or at least what passed for normal with these people. I was certain none of it would touch me.

How wrong I was.

It didn't take long (about a week) for Dart and Bartre to convince most the camp that I was really a spy for the Black Fang and that I would sell them out to Nergal's forces when I got the orders to, if I hadn't already.

Obviously this was a load of lies, but they didn't know that. They actually had several points in their favor.

I _had _been acting oddly lately as we drew closer to our goal. Then there was the fact that I hadn't exactly encouraged the opposite view, either. I mean, always being seen in public with nothing but my eyes showing and talking with Lyn and Eliwood for long periods of time in my tent weren't exactly the best ways to gain others' trust.

Looking back, I realize I should have been truthful with them from the start, allowed them to accept me for who I was now, not who I had been or might become. But that didn't help me now, since everywhere I went now, I was followed by hostile glances and hushed comments that I could just barely hear.

Even Karel, who had seemed on the verge of striking up a conversation (something totally unheard of) with me during one of the times he joined me for a walk at dusk, avoided me after the rumors had circulated. Oddly enough, I was saddened more by the loss of his company than the misplaced distrust I suffered.

The only ones who hadn't been drawn in were Lyn, Eliwood and Hector, though I didn't spend much time with the axe-wielding lord, so I wasn't entirely sure about him. Lyn actually went out of her way to berate those she heard talking about it and once I saw her challenge someone to a fight over it.

I asked her not to bother, saying that I was the one who would have to deal with it, but I knew it wouldn't stop her; she had a strong sense of right and wrong and someone talking trash about someone she considered her friend was definitely wrong. It was one of the things I admired about her character.

The tension throughout the camp built slowly, but steadily over the next week and a half. I spent more and more time in my tent, not wanting to confront the now openly hostile stares and louder words.

Each evening before I went to bed, I wondered when things would come to a head. When they would finally get the courage to confront me directly.

I didn't have long to wait. Just after lunch one day, I looked up when the tent flaps opened to admit two figures. Seeing their serious faces, I laid the map I'd been studying down and gave them my full attention, guessing what they were here for.

"Dart. Bartre. How can I help you?" Just because they were spreading false rumors about me didn't mean I got to be mean to them in return. Still, it took a lot of self-control to keep my voice pleasant.

The two stepped closer. Dart spoke first. "Verian. We've come to believe that there is reason for us to be mistrustful of you and your intentions for traveling with this army."

Bartre took up the tale. "So, we—everyone that shares this opinion—have come up with a solution. An ultimatum, if you will."

I nodded slowly. "I see. What is it?" They exchanged a nervous glance.

"A fight. If you win, we'll let you stay and believe that you are on our side. If you lose, though, you must leave and never come back." Dart finished speaking and they waited for my answer.

To be completely honest, I hadn't actually considered a fight as a possibility. Considering the offer, I sighed. "I agree to your terms." I said finally. "When is it to be?"

"Tomorrow." Bartre answered as they turned to go. "At noon."

* * *

A/N: Finally! Some action! It's not all just angsty memories! Anyway, since these past couple of chapters have been pretty short, the next one's gonna be long to make up for it, as well as contain a nice fight scene and a startled Legault. 

Thank you very much to Knives91 and NekoGuyFan for the reviews, love ya mucho!

Haliaetus


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Another major memory chapter, but it's needed to understand the rest of the story, so deal with it. The italics are the memories, in case you missed that the first few times I used them (italics, that is). Oh, and we finally get to find out what he looks like!

Disclaimer still applies, as you can tell by looking at the game. Actually, I don't remember if I put a disclaimer in this one...oh, well. I am now.

* * *

The fight was to be at noon, which meant I had the whole morning to prepare myself.

A whole morning to think about the events that led up to this. Everything from the time I had still been a normal child to being found by Lyndis on the Sacaen plains to this ultimatum. Memories I hadn't touched for years.

As I fished in my chest to find the outfit I knew was there, I thought about my early life.

_My parents had died in a bandit raid on our village when I was five, too young to remember much. A man found me, took me with him, raised me as his own. He became my father, my world, and everything I knew came from him._

My fingers brushed the cloth and I tugged the pieces out, shaking them to get rid of the wrinkles.

_The day came that he brought me to meet the man who was his boss. Brendan Reed. The leader of a group of assassins, the Black Fang. I was told this was my new home, that this was where I belonged. Thus was it that I became an assassin, quickly climbing in the ranks and earning everyone's fear and respect. My first mission was when I was fifteen._

_I was eighteen when I was given what was to be my last mission as an assassin: kill the son of the Marquess of Worde. I went obediently, spending almost a year getting close to the young man, gaining his trust. _

I stripped my green robes off, discarding them carelessly to one side as I pulled the other clothes on instead.

_Then I received the letter that the assassination was to take place within the next fortnight. For a week and a half I deliberated, battling between my loyalties to the Black Fang and my newfound attraction to the target. _

_Eventually, my training won out and I left Worde with the blood of a young man I had loved on my hands._

_I never forgave the Black Fang for making me do what I had done and soon after, I left. Returning to the land of my birth, I applied to train as a tactician, knowing that the Black Fang would be furious and would hunt me down with all their might. Several years passed with no word of any pursuit, but I knew better than to relax._

I opened the hidden compartment of the chest, pulling out the two identical sheaths. Sliding the blades out, I swung them experimentally, getting a feel for the grips and balance. I hadn't used them in a long time, but my training came back as if it had only been a day since I'd practiced maneuvers with them.

_Finishing my training as a tactician, I wandered, looking for any who required my services. Unfortunately, Elibe was in a time of peace and there weren't many who required the services of a tactician. On one of my excursions through Sacae, I misjudged my endurance and fainted on the plains._

When I woke up, it was to an unexpected scene of the inside of a tent and the worried face of a girl several years my junior. Her name was Lyndis and she was the sole survivor of the Sacaen tribe, the Lorca. Then two cavaliers showed up and the situation got more confusing, though the fact that my services as a tactician would actually be useful on their journey was crystal clear. I agreed to travel with them and we started our adventure to Caelin.

_After we had secured everything at Caelin a few months later, I left to continue my wanderings. A year later, though, I found myself in Lycia once again, in the company of a young lord I had met when I had been with Lyndis. He also requested for my aid, so I consented to travel with him and help him in any battles he might encounter._

_In that entire time, though, Lyndis had been the only one who had seen my face without the green tactician's robe being in the way._

Finding the two loops meant for just this, I fastened the knives to my belt and closed the trunk, straightening up.

So. Now I was paying the price for my paranoia. Hiding my face behind the robes had been my way of making sure someone from the Black Fang wouldn't somehow recognize my, regardless of how many years had passed. The price had been the lower level of trust in the people who followed me and now, even that was nearly nonexistent.

They wanted a fight. They would get it

The unsheathed knives hung from my belt as I looked in the small mirror I owned, wondering what I looked like without the green veil. It had been a while since I had seen my own reflection not distorted by the movement of water.

Silver eyes stared back at me from a face that rather reminded me of Legault's, without the scar. My steel blue-gray hair was loosely gathered into a long ponytail that hung to the small of my back, with shorter strands hanging down the sides of my face.

I couldn't help but remember another time I had looked at myself in the mirror, just after my last mission, before I had returned to the Black Fang's hideout. Then, I had seemed so much younger, shocked at what I had done and terrified of what I might do. Though the eyes that stared back into mine in the present weren't filled with horror, I could identify apprehension and something else as I dwelled on the thought of the fight that would take place today.

Who would they choose for me to fight? Who would I have to take up arms against?

Karel, perhaps. He was the best swordsman we had, after all. Or maybe Legault. The assassin was still fighting fit, for all that he was old for an assassin.

I frowned at the thought of fighting Legault and my reflection frowned with me. Legault didn't know who I was, though I knew who—and what—he was better than anyone else did.

After all, he had been one of the Four Fangs when I'd still been with the Black Fang.

* * *

A/N: Hmm…so now we finally know what the heck Verian looks like. It was hard to put in any earlier due to this whole thing being written in first person and all. This was probably one of my favorite parts to write, simply because I could have fun with Legault's reactions to Verian when he realized who he was.

Gues what? I'm updating another chapter! As in, two in the same day! So read on!

Haliaetus


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Second chapter updated today! Whoot! Anyway, this one contains all the actiony action (the fight) that the past few have led up to.

Quick revision of a note in the last chapter (the reference to my enjoying writing about Legault's reaction to Ver). I meant to put it on this chapter, but lost track of which one I was doing, so please disregard that and apply it to this one. Thank you. You may now resume your activity of perusing this story written purely for your enjoyment. Kudos.

READ, DANGIT!

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I emerged from my tent a few minutes shy of noon. Someone saw me and ran, presumably to tell the others that I was on my way.

As I walked through the camp to the clearing where the fight would be held, I caught the shocked stares of the stragglers as they saw me and figured out who I was without the green robes to identify me.

Arriving at the back of the crowd, I waited in silence for them to notice me. When they did, everyone fell quiet and I found that a path had opened for me through them to the fight circle. I walked down the aisle, my footsteps on the dirt the only sound besides the birds and insects.

There was a small group off to one side, consisting of Dart, Bartre, Legault and Karel, though Raven was standing almost close enough to be a part of it.

Of the four, Karel saw me first, then Legault followed his glance and Dart and Bartre soon picked up on it. I met Karel's gaze before continuing past him to meet Legault's eyes.

"So, Hurricane. We see each other plain." I said, loud enough for the assassin to hear me. He frowned for a moment, trying to figure out who I was, but then the realization hit and his eyebrows nearly disappeared under the headband he wore.

"Somehow, Shadow, I can't say I'm too surprised." He replied. To Dart and Bartre, he added, "I'm afraid I won't be able to fight for you today, sirs."

Dart looked shocked. "What? Why not?"

Legault indicated me. "Verian here happens to be an ex-member of the Black Fang. For about five years, this man has been a quarry of their assassins, wanted for betraying the Black Fang. Despite what you might think, he's had nothing to do with the Black Fang for almost five years. As such, it is impossible for him to be a spy for them. As for why _I_ won't fight him, I still have bruises from our last encounter and have no desire to add more."

Bartre frowned. "Then who _will_ fight him? He's still a shady character!"

Karel stepped forward. "I'll fight him." They jerked to look at him, surprised.

The assassin next to him frowned slightly and cast me a quick glance before turning back. "Are you sure about that? He might not have used those blades in years, but I'll bet he's still most of the terror he used to be. He's not someone you want to cross, especially with a blade."

"I'm sure. It's all well and good for you to say that he's no longer part of Black Fang, but I want to know definitely whether he's given up his past for the present." The swordsman was looking at Legault, but I knew the words were directed at me, if not with what meaning attached. Unsheathing his long sword, he turned to face me. "That is, if you will have me as an opponent."

I nodded, glad I wasn't fighting Legault, but equally unhappy to be fighting at all, much less against Karel. Still, there was no help for it at this stage of things, though Legault's words had caused the crowd to murmur and whisper amongst themselves.

"Feel free to begin when you want. I'm ready when you are." I told him, letting my hands hang loosely by my side, next to the blades that still hung from my belt.

He took up a basic stance, one that let him defend or attack without moving anything but his blade. I'd seen him practicing several maneuvers that began with this stance over the weeks and vaguely wondered which he would use—most of my attention was locked on a bubble around me, my personal danger zone. It didn't matter which moves he used, or in what succession he put them together in; as long as I could concentrate on my danger zone, I would be able to dodge every one of his attacks.

The first few strikes were testing blows, used mainly to test my resilience and skill. I didn't bother using my blades at all, preferring to simply bend to one side when a strike came too close. After that, the blows came quicker, with more strength and intent to harm behind them. In order to avoid these attacks, I was forced to move from where I'd started.

I'd been told that when I fought, before I used my blades, the moves I used to evade my opponent's attacks made it seem as if I were gliding over the ground, almost in a dance-like way, bending my body just the right amount to let the weapon miss. Personally, I thought of it as more like a trance-like state where I focused on where the air is displaced during an attack and respond almost automatically, not really thinking about what I was doing. If I stopped to think about it, I wouldn't be able to react in time to dodge.

So far, it seemed as if I hadn't lost my touch when it came to one-on-one battles. Legault, standing on the sidelines with his arms crossed and a look of concentration on his face, seemed very interested in what I was doing, but I didn't take my concentration off my danger zone to think about what he was thinking about.

Not that I needed to think about it.

He was an assassin, regardless of who employed him, just like I was. He might not be my opponent right now, but I could be in the future. Seeing me fight right now would give him something to go off of later when he fought me, if he ever did. It was an instinct that had been drilled into us as a second nature from the beginning of our training; he was probably unaware of what he was doing.

Just then Karel performed a move I'd only seen him use once, during his exercises, and I was forced to bend over to avoid the whistling blade as it went through my danger zone, leaving the back of my legs open to attack. Turning the bend into a forward somersault, I twisted as I came up so that I faced him.

Except, he wasn't there anymore.

My concentration was thrown out of whack by this and I barely managed to dodge the next attack that came from behind me and to my left. Karel must have used the momentum from his attack to move with me as I rolled to get in my blind spot when I came up. Clenching my jaw, I gripped the hilt of one of my daggers and waited for his next attack. Time to take this fight to the next level.

It came in the form of a diagonal slice aiming for my midsection and curving down to go across my leg. As it came down towards me, I didn't move. An instant later, there was a loud clang and the sword flew out of Karel's grasp to land several yards away.

I held my dagger away from my body, parallel to the ground, but the blade pointed away from the back of my hand, unlike the conventional forward facing daggers. Not that these daggers were conventional in any way. Besides being made with reverse holds, these daggers had been made specially for me, with reversed blades and hooks built into the end that curved back along the blade for an inch and a half. They might hurt going in, but they killed coming out.

Lifting my eyes to meet Karel's gaze, I used my other hand to indicate the weapon lying in the dirt. "Pick it up." I said, keeping my tone devoid of all emotion. "A swordsman without a blade is nothing. Pick it up."

He nodded slowly and picked his sword up, checking the blade for any damage. Finding everything to his satisfaction, he turned back to me. The fight resumed.

Four times I disarmed him with my single dagger, four times I told him to pick his blade back up. The time elapsed since we had begun the fight was only about fifteen minutes.

The fifth time I disarmed him, I had to use both blades to keep myself from being injured. Karel had used an advanced technique that ended with his blade close to me and slicing down the middle of my torso. A single dagger wasn't sufficient to block the strike, so I used the other, caught the sword as it descended and twisted it out of his grip.

I started to repeat the words I'd said before when I'd disarmed him. "Pick it up. A swordsman—"

"Why?" The question that interrupted me came from Karel as he stood by his sword, making no move to pick it up.

Frowning, I stepped forward. "Why, what?" I asked, wondering what was the matter. We were in the middle of a fight. What was he doing asking "Why?"

"Why won't you kill me?" He replied softly, glancing up at me with those dark eyes that had always looked on the world with contempt and scorn. "Five times now you've had me at your mercy and five times you've let me live to continue the fight. I would have thought that you would eliminate the opposition when you got the chance."

"What makes you think that?" I retorted, feeling the anger rising in me. Deliberately, I forced it back down, another of my early lessons coming back to me—anger will do nothing to help you and everything to hinder you; an angry fighter fights blindly.

Karel finally stooped to pick up his sword. "You were an assassin. Killing shouldn't be so hard for you and you know I won't stop until one of us is dead."

I shrugged. "I don't care when you stop fighting, but whether or not I kill you is a choice left to me. I see no reason to tell you why."

After a moment, he nodded. "I suppose." Seemingly finished, he launched into a complicated series of attacks, all of them easily deflected by my daggers.

Still, fighting so intensely for as long as we had was beginning to take its toll on me and I could see that it was affecting Karel as well. It wasn't obvious to the casual observer, but I knew Legault had noticed; the next time I disarmed Karel, he was frowning at us as if worried about the outcome.

The crowd around us had been silent the entire time we had been fighting, now about thirty minutes or so, and I had almost forgotten about their presence; my world had shrunk down to the circle, Karel and myself. Now though, as I disarmed Karel a seventh time, I was startled to realize that only about a dozen remained. Apparently, watching people fight wasn't all that entertaining around here unless it was between Matthew and Guy or Serra and Erk.

Turning my attention back to the fight, I decided that we had been dancing around each other enough and it was time to actually fight. The next time Karel used a lunge, I sidestepped it and came around so that I was behind him. Kicking out, I watched as he continued to stumble forward, the momentum from the strike and my kick sending him further than he had expected.

Before he attacked again, he turned to face me. "Tell me why." He insisted. I frowned before realizing what he was talking about.

"Why should I?" I asked, lowering my daggers marginally. He looked me in the eye and I stepped back at the force of his gaze. The closest analogy I could find was when I had once been caught out in a storm, the high winds nearly knocking me off my feet, and even that wasn't close to what it felt like.

I returned his gaze steadily for another moment longer. "We're done here." I said finally, breaking the connection and turning to go. I heard Karel stand, lunge forward. Whipping around, I caught the edge of his sword by the hook on one dagger and pushed it away from me and out of his hands.

"Tell me why." Karel insisted, breathing hard as his sword dropped to the ground. I lifted my eyes to meet his gaze once more. I don't know what he saw there, what it meant to him, but there was something in his eyes that resonated with something in me.

"It's not a matter of why I_ won't_ kill you, Karel." I said softly, knowing that only he could hear me. "It's a matter of why I_ can't_." I turned away. "We're done here."

He didn't try to stop me and neither did anyone else.

* * *

A/N: Whoo...that was fun to write, if a bit harrowing. This is the whole scene that led to this fanfic. Karel's question and Ver's answer were the foundations for this brainchild of mine. It turned out basically the same as I had envisioned it, with very minor differences and overall, I'm very pleased with how it all came out.

Next up, we learn more about Ver's past! That's right! The angst part ain't done 'till the truth's all out! insert evil cackle here.

Ahem. Anyway, check back tomorrow for the next bit.

Haliaetus.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Hey, this next chapter will be from **Legault's** POV, **not** from Ver's, due to my need to get more in-depth with Ver's past and Karel's reaction to hearing it. So, there's a lot of Legault talking to Karel, who actually starts a conversation for once in his life. Beyond that, you're going to have to keep reading if you want to know more.

Disclaimer still applies and romancy stuff will start appearing as of the next chapter, though we've now caught up to where I've written, so it might take a bit longer between updates. Just to let you know.

* * *

It had been two days since the fight between Karel and Verian and I was starting to get a bit worried.

Now, worrying isn't something I usually do. Usually, I limit myself to making snide comments and trying to help in an abrupt and often rude way. Worrying from the sidelines waiting for someone else to make the first move really isn't my forte and having to wait longer than I want to gets annoying.

Thankfully, Karel came to his senses before I had to steal his sword to get his attention. It was evening of the second day when his shadow darkened the doorway to my tent.

I looked up from where I was oiling a piece of Hyperion's saddle for Heath to raise an eyebrow at the swordsman standing awkwardly just inside the tent.

"Can I help you?" Now that he was here, my annoyance at having to wait evaporated instantly and I decided I might as well have some fun doing this.

Karel obviously was _not_ used to making social visits, seeing as he hardly knew where to look and had absolutely not idea what to say. I sighed and indicated a large cushion I kept for visitors to use. "Sit, sit. Standing there isn't going to do any of us good and it might do us some harm if Heath tries to come in while you're standing there." I told him as he slowly sat down, adjusting the ever-present sword as he did so.

I returned my attention to the piece of leather, fully aware of how uncomfortable Karel was and delighting in how the tension rose in the tent exponentially with each passing moment. The silence lasted almost as long as it took me to finish with what I was doing, but Karel finally spoke, breaking the quiet.

"What do you know about Verian?" He asked. I glanced up from the leather to raise my eyebrows at him.

"What do you want to know?" I asked in return, rubbing at the last bit of leather still in my hands.

He frowned, obviously not pleased with my answer. I smiled inwardly. No matter what he thought of my answer, I was the only one who knew Verian well enough for him to go to about his problem and if he wanted answers, he couldn't kill me. Not that I was much of a match for him, anyway.

"I…I want to know everything you know about him." He replied finally, shifting his sword. I nodded slowly as my gaze returned to the leather I held. Setting it aside, I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Well. That's quite a bit to know." I told him, leaning forward and resting my weight on my elbows. "Mind telling me why?"

The swordsman did a quick battle with his inner demons, probably debating whether or not it would be conducive to the conversation to kill me before it was over for my impudence. At any rate, he sighed and shook his head.

"It's something he said to me, at the end of our fight."

"I see…and that would be…?" I had been on the opposite side of the circle from where they had ended the fight and hadn't heard what Verian had said to Karel to make him willing to end the fight in such a way.

"'It's not a matter of why I _won't_ kill you, it's a matter of why I _can't._'" He said slowly, a frown creasing his brow. "Do you know what it means?"

I stared at Karel, astounded. "He said that…to _you_?" I asked, wondering if I'd heard him right. When Karel nodded, I closed my eyes. "I know what it means, I know why and I know how. But—" I held up a hand to forestall any remarks he might make. "I'm not going to tell you everything, because part of it, he needs to tell you himself. I _will_ tell you what I can, though."

Opening my eyes again, I waited until I got his assent before taking another deep breath. "Okay. We begin with a young boy, about seven, with no parents. They were killed in a bandit raid two years before. Now, he lives with a man who found him shortly after his parents died and took him in. This man, however, works for Brendan Reed, the leader of an infamous group of assassins called the Black Fang. The man's name? Uhai."

Recognition of the name dawned slowly on Karel's face. "He was the one who took Lady Lyndis hostage, wasn't he?" I nodded.

"Yes, he was. Verian never knew his name, though, so he still has no idea that Uhai was the man who turned him over to Brendan." I paused for a moment and waited for Karel's attention to return to me. "Now Uhai had noticed that the young boy he had taken in showed considerable potential to be quick and intelligent, so he took him to Brendan, knowing his leader would be delighted to take in a potential new assassin. He was right. Brendan took to the young boy immediately and his training began the next day. For eight years, he trained to be an assassin, having forgotten his previous life. The only thing he kept from his younger days was his name, Verian, though he seldom used it." Karel looked a little confused at this point, so I paused again to see if he had a question, which he did.

"You called him Shadow before the fight. Was that his assassin name?"

I nodded, surprised at Karel's perceptiveness. "Yes it was, like mine was Hurricane. For four years, Shadow assassinated the targets picked out for him and he became one of the best, better than I, better than Jaffar, better than anyone else in the group, though he often downplayed his abilities to not seem so special. It wasn't until he was given the mission to assassinate the son of the Marquess of Worde that he started to change. I had known him before he left on that mission—being the closest to him in age—and when he returned a year later, he had changed so much, I felt like I hardly knew him at all. He told me one day what had happened in Worde, but that is the part that you need to hear from him. Not too long after he returned to the group after that mission, we woke one day to find him gone, with no trace to even begin a search for him. To lose an assassin of such caliber came as a shock to everyone, but Brendan was affected the hardest. He gave us all orders that we were to keep our eyes and ears open for any sign of Shadow when we were out on mission."

"You never found him." It wasn't a question, but I nodded anyway.

"We never found him." I repeated. "It was as if he had disappeared off the face of the earth. For five long years we watched for him, hoping that we would find some trace of the best assassin we had ever had. Nothing." I laughed then, even though there wasn't anything really funny in what I had said. "A tactician! He had disappeared to become a tactician!"

I lifted my gaze to look Karel in the eye as my laughter died. "He's no longer the assassin I knew." I told him, all traces of humor gone. "He's his own man, making his own choices, deciding his own future. Whether his past still haunts him or not, I do not know, but if he told you that he couldn't kill you, well, that speaks volumes. I suggest you go talk to him as soon as possible. Who knows? You might learn something."

He recognized the dismissal and stood, one hand resting absently on the hilt of his sword. Not looking at me as he turned to leave, he paused. "Thank you, Legault." Then he was gone.

Heath returned just after Karel left, looking tired and a bit confused. He gestured behind him, outside the tent. "Was…was Karel just in here?" He asked, giving me a quizzical look.

Shrugging, I stood up and moved the oiled leather off my bedroll. "He wanted some advice on love." I told the wyvern-rider.

The look I got was priceless.

* * *

A/N: Ah, I loved that last bit…Can you imagine _Karel_ asking _Legault_ for advice on _love_?!?!?! I didn't think so. Apparently, neither could Heath. Go figure. Ah, well, at least Legault got some laughs out of that. More romancy stuff coming up, with Karel finally talking to Verian about Ver's past. This story might go on for another two chapters, but I'm thinking it likely that the next one will be the last. If that's how it ends up, it will probably be a really long one, so cross your fingers, 'kay? I'm going to need all the luck I can get if I'm going to do a romancy chapter with Karel and still stay more or less in character...

Check back soon!

Haliaetus


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: And…back to Ver's POV, 'cause I miss him.

This is the last chapter and I'd like to thank all of you who have stuck by me throughout the posting of this thing; I'm not sure it would have been finished without your support. A quick warning from me to you about a very OOC Karel (as far as I can tell...) and a bit of a spoiler on Karel and Karla's 'A' Support Conversation. Beyond that, just a bit more angst and (finally) the romance stuff I promised.

And, seeing as there is none of this stuff in the game, you can be sure I don't own it. Yay for the last disclaimer I have to do for this story...

Luv ya all and hope you take the time to read some of my other fics.

Now read.

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I hadn't left my tent for the entire two days since the fight with Karel. That's not to say that I hadn't had contact with anyone since then—Lyn and a few others had visited me—but I had yet to venture beyond the tent flaps, unsure of what my reception would be like.

My mood hadn't been lightened at all by the fight or the fact that no one came to tell me to hit the road, but I couldn't figure out why. Everything had been settled as far as I knew and there weren't any imminent battles, so there seemed to be no reason for my edginess. Still, it persisted and I limited any conversations with other to about ten minutes to prevent physical injuries on the other party's behalf. Especially now that my hands had once again felt the grips of my daggers.

The morning of the third day dawned clear and stuffy, promising another scorcher. As I had the past two days, I considered and rejected the idea of moving on; being unsure of your place in a group and having to endure suffocating heat tend to do that to a person.

Lyn and Merlinus had already been by to discuss supplies and Legault and Heath had stopped by to let me know that they were going for a ride on Hyperion, probably trying to escape the heat that seemed to hold us captive. I had been surprised to see the wyvern-rider, considering that he'd been one of those who had believed Dart and Bartre's rumors, but surmised that Legault had probably either dragged him there regardless or convinced him of the truth.

Still, none of them prepared me for my next visitor, an hour or two before lunchtime.

I heard the tent flaps open and swish closed, but I didn't bother looking up from my paperwork for another few minutes. When I did, I nearly fell over backwards in surprise and immediately wondered why I had chosen to discard my tactician's robes in favor of a cooler outfit (with the extreme temperatures, those robes became a veritable oven, but the safety they represented was very tempting just then).

"K-Karel!" I sputtered, too surprised to formulate a coherent sentence. Taking deep breaths as I tried to come to terms with the swordsman being in my tent, I gathered what wits I could find around me. "What can I help you with?"

Karel was looking decidedly awkward, but determined, and I wondered why. Presumably, it was why he was here at all, but you never knew with psychotic swordsmen.

"I…need to talk to you, Ver." No doubt about it this time; he'd definitely said 'Ver,' not 'Verian' and it was quite deliberate. I added that perplexity to the pile already accumulated and raised an eyebrow, my calm regained, though my heart was still having palpitations.

"What about?" I asked, keeping my voice even. Karel fingered the hilt of his sword and I surreptitiously checked to make sure my daggers were within reach. No reason not to be prepared for any possibility.

"About you." He replied, looking me in the eye. "And me." The blood drained out of my face.

Oh, St. Elimine, he couldn't possibly mean…could he? How had he…? I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to see past that mask of cool indifference he wore so casually. "You talked with Legault, didn't you?" I asked in an almost accusatory tone. If the ex-Black Fang had told him more than he should have…

He nodded. "I did, but he wouldn't tell me everything and told me to talk to you if I wanted the full story."

Biting my lip to cover my relief, I leaned back in my chair, still maintaining a posture that lent itself to instantaneous defense if needed. "What do you know?"

When he finished telling me most of my own history, I nodded slowly. "That's about all there is to it, though Legault left out the most crucial part." One of my hands made its way to my temple, which I then proceeded to rub to relieve the headache I could feel starting.

"What would that part be?" He didn't give up, did he? I lifted my gaze to meet his and pursed my lips before sighing.

"I loved the Marquess' son." I said slowly, watching Karel's face to make sure he understood what I was saying and implying. "Before I killed him, though, I told him what I was, who I was, what I was sent to do." I broke off, closing my eyes as memories that were still painful despite the intervening years were dragged to the front of my mind.

Karel stepped forward, almost involuntarily, and frowned slightly, though I couldn't tell if it was from concern or confusion. "So, he understood what you were doing and he still let you do it?" Obviously, this wasn't sitting too well with his standards of how things like that were done.

"Yes." My voice had shrunk to a whisper, and Karel took another two steps forward to hear me. Now he was just a few inches away from the other side of my desk, less than a yard from me.

"He made you promise something, didn't he?" My eyes shot open and I glanced sharply up at him. His voice had been the gentlest I'd heard him use, even with his sister, and I thought I had heard an undercurrent of sympathy that was totally out of character for him.

"How…?" My throat went dry, so I swallowed and tried again. "How did you know?"

The swordsman rested one hand on the desk, not meeting my startled gaze. He shrugged. "Intuition. What was it?"

I let my eyes grow unfocused as I returned in my mind to that moment, when the young lord had smiled sadly at me and asked me to promise him one thing before I killed him.

"_Don't let it happen again. Don't let someone else force you to hurt the one you love, regardless of the consequences." _

I echoed the words in a whisper, feeling something wet running down one cheek. I blinked. Was I crying? Lifting one hand up, I wiped at my cheek and stared disbelieving at the wetness. I hadn't cried since I was five, when I understood that my parents had gone and weren't coming back.

A hand came to rest on my shoulder and I turned to look at Karel uncomprehendingly, my vision going blurry as more tears joined the first. For once, I didn't see the sword and ruthless mindset; all I saw was someone who was concerned and understanding. Why he should understand what I was going through or be concerned about me, I didn't know. But it was enough to make the rest of my barriers crumble to dust and set my body shaking with barely suppressed sobs.

Strong arms held me as I cried and my daggers hung forgotten on my belt, any pretense of control gone as I wept for the young boy whose childhood had been cut short to become an assassin and the young man who'd been forced to kill the one he loved. The pain seeped out with the drops of salty water, leaving me feeling oddly calm when I finally stopped sobbing.

Pulling back just enough to tilt my head up to look Karel in the eye, but not enough o totally disengage from the strangely comforting circle of his arms, I swallowed, unable to understand the expression in his dark eyes. Not quite trusting my voice to work properly, I let my face settle into a slightly bemused and confused expression, hoping my question would get across.

He didn't quite smile, but there as a slight relaxation of his face muscles that—had it been anyone other than Karel—probably would have resulted in a slight smile.

"It is something that has been engrained so deeply into yourself that it has become an impossibility to not do it." He said quietly. "I can understand that."

There was a moment of silence before he continued. "When we fought…it was obvious that you were…had become something that had found a reason to live. That was what I saw when you used your daggers to disarm me. I could see it in your eyes. When I asked you why you wouldn't kill me—though I knew that you knew that if you left me alive, I would find you and fight you again until one of us died—as you answered, the look you gave me reminded me of…of my sister." He paused to take a deep breath.

"She told me once, 'We are less than human now. We are no different from our swords themselves. Our hearts are cold, and we count the days we live solely by the flesh we cleave. What meaning can there be in such an existence?' (1) I did not have an answer. Since then, I have been thinking about that question and what my answer to it would be."

I frowned slightly. "Did you find it?"

There was a definite twitch upwards of Karel's lips and I couldn't help but think that he was acting rather oddly when compared to his usual behavior.

"I had been getting closer, but it wasn't until I fought you that I realized what it was."

My confusion must have showed, because Karel continued on to explain what he meant. "You had found a reason to keep living. After I talked with Legault, I thought about that for a while. And now that I know what it was that gave meaning to your life, I find my own answer. There is no meaning in an existence measured solely by killing."

"Then, what is your reason for living?" The traces of a smile, if that had been what it was, disappeared.

Eyes that had drifted away from my face to look elsewhere pulled back to connect with my own. Dark hair draped forward as Karel leaned a bit closer. I was suddenly very aware of his arms and the close proximity of the rest of him.

"You said that the young lord asked you to promise to never let anyone force you to harm the one you loved, correct?" I nodded, badly confused at what was happening, exactly. and he went on. "You said at the end of the fight that you couldn't kill me, right?" My nod was a bit slower this time, but he wasn't waiting for my answer. "Then, tell me, Verian. Why?"

His eyes held the same inscrutable look as before, but this time, I thought I recognized something in the dark depths. My feelings and actions from the past few weeks flew through my mind and I finally realized why I had acted like that. Closing my eyes so I wouldn't have to look at him, I whispered my answer.

"Because I love you."

"Good." I opened my eyes at the tone of his voice. What was he…? "If you had answered anything else, you wouldn't have seen me again." My confusion doubled.

"Why…?" I was prevented from finishing the question by Karel's finger.

"Now. This 'love' thing is a human emotion, right? So, by becoming human, you open yourself to these kinds of things, right? I overheard Legault saying that the Angel of Death had become human, had opened himself to love, and if he can, someone like me can too, right?" If there had been a competition for the most confusion, I would have left all the contestants in the dust. Karel didn't seem to notice, though.

"Becoming human doesn't require that I stop being a swordsman, though, so I don't have to change everything, but there are certain behaviors that are inherent in being human, so…"

I risked his anger and asked, "What the heck are you talking about, Karel?"

He _smiled_. Flat-out, no questions about it, _smiled_.

Caught off balance between coming to terms with something previously thought impossible and stopping my heart from jumping up my throat and killing me, I didn't add on to my question.

"I'm talking about how I've changed since joining up with you guys."

"Oh."

"But you wanted to know my reason for living. I'll tell you."

"Huh…?"

"I love you, too."

Somewhere in my mind, in a place not dealing with the swordmaster in front of me, I thought I heard a familiar voice.

"_Make your own choices, Ver. No matter what others say, it's your life and you can do what you want with it. Just don't forget your promise."_

I haven't and I won't.

"_Good. And don't forget me, either."_

How could I forget you?

"_True…after all, it's because of me that you've come as far as you have. I'm proud of you, Ver."_

Thank you, but…

"_No, you've earned this on your own. Let your heart decide for you now."_

I think I already have…

"_Fine. Trust its judgment."_

I will. After all, it's led me true this far.

"_I love you."_

I loved you, too, but it's time for me to move on, to open myself to new possibilities. The voice faded away and I knew that I would never hear it again. Something else replaced it, though, a very real voice that whispered in my ear.

"I love you."

* * *

A/N: The End. For those of you who didn't catch that at the end, there, that's the young (nameless and very dead) lord of Worde talking to Ver there. All told, it's probably a good thing he's dead...now Karel won't hunt him down and kill him out of jealousy...

Ah, it feels good to have this finished up; no more worrying about it and fretting over what to write and all that jazz...

Still, I hope those of you who have read this (and possibly my other story, Roses for a Queen) will stay with me when I write other stories or expand on ones I already have. I would love to hear from all of you!

Haliaetus


	11. Epilogue

A/N: I blame this entirely on an overactive imagination. Also, this has almost no correlation to the sequel I've typed (yes, you read that right. A sequel. Also blamed on an overactive imagination.), but it was a fun way to end it, so there you go. Enjoy.

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(Legault's POV)

I leaned against Hyperion's foreleg, enjoying the warm morning sun that was shining on my face. There was just something about the morning that I connected to.

Thankfully, the heat wave we'd been suffering through for the past three days had dissipated and the warmth was now merely comfortable rather than stifling. Regardless, I only spared a moment's thought to the weather, being more concerned about a totally unrelated subject.

From where I stood, I could see the entrance to Verian's tent. He hadn't come out of it for three days, not since the fight with Karel. The swordsman himself had gone in yesterday just before lunch, but I knew he hadn't returned to his tent and nobody else had seen him after that. So, being the nosy guy I was, I decided to see if what I had told Karel had had any effect.

Though, I was pretty certain of the answer to that question already, seeing as I had been watching since just after dawn with no luck. It was now mid-morning.

Finally, some movement at the entrance to the tent caught my eye and I focused again, unconsciously holding my breath in anticipation.

I let it out the next second in disappointment as Karel emerged alone, with no evidence of what had gone on within the tent during the night. He quickly disappeared behind some other tents, presumably heading back to his own, and I continued to watch for Verian.

Now there was a puzzle. Our tactician was a veritable cornucopia of enigmatic emotions and thoughts. Not to mention the fact that he was an ex-assassin like myself.

When I had first joined up with this smorgasbord of an army, the thought that I might know the tactician as someone from the Black Fang had never occurred to me. The young man I had known only as Shadow and the tactician I knew as Verian were so different from each other, there had been no correlation in my mind. Until the fight.

I had seen the old Shadow in that fight, when he moved and used his blades. That was something that he had been unable to let go of, despite all the other changes he had made in his life. But the man who had ended the fight had been Verian, not as a tactician, but as himself, as the man he had become after leaving the Black Fang.

I looked at him now with different eyes, knowing who he had been and who he was now and wondering if Shadow had ever truly died.

"You seem to be thinking quite a bit, Hurricane." Startled out of my thoughts, I spun around to find myself looking into Verian's smiling face. He was standing not five feet from where I had been leaning on Hyperion, the wyvern continuing to doze peacefully. Trying to convince my racing heart that cardiac arrest would _not_ be appreciated, I threw a casual grin back at the other ex-assassin.

"Mornings just seem like good times to think." I replied, forcing myself to calm down as years of training screamed at me from the back of my brain. Just because Verian had his blades with him did _not_ mean that he wanted to fight.

The tactician nodded. "I think so, too. What were you thinking of, hm?" Inwardly, I cursed his perceptiveness, wondering if it was an inherent trait of tacticians or if it was just how he was. Outwardly, I simply continued to grin.

"Oh, not much. Just appreciating how the heat wave has passed and the weather has become much more agreeable." I said flippantly, willing him to believe the lie. The fates must not have been feeling too compliant, though, since Verian sidled closer, a look of vague amusement on his face.

"Really? 'Cause there's a clear line of sight from where you're standing to my tent and I'd be willing to bet you've been out here for a while, watching to see if anything's changed." He had stopped about two feet away and my skin crawled with the need to move away. I clamped down on the urge firmly, unwilling to show any weakness.

"Well…" There really wasn't anything I could say to that without condemning myself.

Verian nodded, almost to himself. "I thought so." He seemed to think about something for a moment, then come to a conclusion. "I told Karel I'd meet him back at that stand of pine trees we'd passed on our way here. There are plenty of bushes around, but it's pretty secluded. I'll be leaving Lyn in charge. Would that be fine?"

A reply didn't seem necessary, but I nodded anyway, already plotting for later. He just smiled and walked off, humming a tune softly as he went. Looking after him, I couldn't help but note that without the robes, he looked a lot like Raven with long hair, at least from behind. I took a moment to clear my head of all subsequent thoughts, including the one that had been lurking in my brain since that unfortunate accident at the hot springs a few weeks ago.

The other man disappeared around some tents—the same ones Karel had, I noticed—and I headed off to prepare for my own excursion. After all, I still wanted an answer to that question.

Later, I leaned back against the trunk of one of the pine trees with a satisfied smirk on my face. A job well done was always well rewarded, after all.

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A/N: Like I said, pretty random stuff. I did say that, right? Anyway, I'll leave it to your imagination as to what Ver and Karel could possibly be doing to make Legault smirk like that. ...Yeah...

I'll be posting the sequel pretty soon, too. It'll be Legault/Heath centric, 'cause I just love them like that. Yup. I had fun, too. See you later!

Haliaetus


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